The Freakquency

Tuning you into not-the-mother wit, insight into your blindness, knowledge of your ignorance, and various and sundry profundities untold.
Basically, I'm just talking shit...

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

What Kind Of Fuckery Is This?

You can't keep lying to yourself like this (to yourself) Can't believe you played yourself (out) like this... -- Amy Winehouse

That's how I greeted Mister's day-late-and-a-dollar-short call to me this evening.

My daddy in the hospital, and your selfish muthafuckin' ass ain't called me since your vain ass started packin' for the DR last Wednesday.

That's just some...unacceptable shit.

See, these are the flags that go up that make me think you ain't ready to marry me. Shit, you ain't ready to marry nobody, you asshole.

Can't think of nobody but your damn self.

The BAD thing about it is I hadn't even realized he HADN'T called until Saturday. Cuz that's just how busy I been with my pappy, but damn.

How fuckin' easygoing do a bitch gotta be?

What kind of fuckery are we? Nowadays you don't mean dick to me (dick to me) I might let you make it up to me (make it up)...

I'm not tripping, but it's one of those cases where it's the principle of the gotdamn thing, and I just might trip cuz it's my fuckin' right to trip, and somebody need to trip on that selfish, rotten ass of his for him to understand why he got it so fuckin' good with a tripless bitch like me.

But he'on see it.

Sometimes...sometimes, you just gotta kirk the fuck out on some theatrical shit just cuz a muthafucka don't deserve a non-triptical experience.

Butterbean ass nigga.

Yeah, I said it.

Move.

*pushing the air*

I've got insomnia again.

If I had thought about it earlier, I would have taken me two sleeping pills so that I'd have a fighting chance at a good night's rest.

But I was too busy chompin' on a Whopper, in between puffs.

The girlies are freeCuz the crack costs money, oh yeah!I said the girlies are freeCuz the crack costs money, oh yeah...P is Free, Boogie Down Productions

Like a fiend, I found two sample packets of Bextra that my doctor had given me before the recall in one of my night table drawers, and a bitch was HAPPY.

Ok...maybe happy ain't the word.

A bitch was GEEKED.

Even had the nerve to clutch them to my chest.

On some fiend type shit...

But you'on know what I know.

Bextra was that only shit that got this pain out of my arm. Bursitis is what she called it. And rightly, I'on give a fuck what it is...I just want it gone.

She can't do the things I do to you, No one is loving you the way, the way I love you She can't be everything you need and what you need is me Coz its the way I love you... -- The Way I Love You, Tamia

Alot of women approach shit in this manner. As though they have the patent on loving. How you know if she can't love him the way you did?

Does it ever dawn on them that the way you were lovin' him is what drove that muthafucka right down the street?

I'm just sayin'...

I know personally, as many times as I've seen the brakelights of a past lover drivin' down the highway of my love, that somebody gon' love him.

And if not as much as I do...better.

I'm inherently competitive, but I need to compete on things that are stagnant and constant. Some measurable shit.

Not no love.

Drive yourself crazy tryna compete with somebody else's love.

Hey...if what I was giving you ain't meet your specifications, then tip out on that shit then.

Fuck you lookin' at me for.

I'm never upset when I gave my best.

Tell me who's gonna takeThe heartbreak I took (nobody)And still be there at the close of the bookWhen you've grown older and lost your wayAnd all your rainbows have turned to grayYou better stop and think about what you're doingYou better stop and think about what you're doing... -- You're Gonna Need Me, Dionne Warwick

See! That shit never works! When the nigga leave you, he ain't thinking 20 years down the road. He's just thinking about getting.away.from.your.mouth.today.

That's all he's thinking about ladies.

Cutting off the broken faucet of your shrill, and incessant voice.

And I can speak on that shit, cuz I got one helluva SHRILL, incessant voice.

Gotta love men for their simplicity!

There's this really fat lady at my job.

And yanno...it's not the problem that she's fat.

I mean, her greasy hair is pretty fuckin' disgusting, but even that isn't as bad

...as all that muthafuckin' fluid in her legs.

It looks like she put a shoe on the end of her thigh.

I'm serious, yo...no bullshittin'.

And that made me...like. Instantly.

Not like her.

I know it's cruel. I know it. But I.can't.handle.looking.at.her.

Aren't I allowed my prejudices?

Fuckouttaherewitcher morality.

So here I be.

Insanely and deliciously crass.

Lovin' the skin that I'm in.

Marinatin' in my own juices.

I don't want to beAnything other than what I've been trying to be latelyAll I have to doIs think of me and I have peace of mindI'm tired of looking 'round roomsWondering what I've got to doOr who I'm supposed to beI don't want to be anything other than me... -- I Don't Wanna Be, Gavin DeGraw

About Me

Box? What box? To think outside of the box, I'd have to acknowledge that there IS a box, right? Well. I'm random as hell, what can I say. Get used to it. I love kettle corn, God, Hennessey, silence, men, words, and peppermint patties...not necessarily in that order.

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Blind BabyNew Birth

If only to hear Londee belt out Forever, this CD is a must-have in any music collection that is geared towards the most poignant vocalization of the 70's R&B scene. If not for Leslie's cum-compelling rendition of Dream Merchant, she would have but stolen the entire show.

This Is The Type Of Shit I Would Say

I'm Da Baddest Bitch
Can't nothin' change that
Every nigga that I fucked
They done came back... -- Trina